What Sarah Said
by Devers18
Summary: Here he was, sitting on that damned plastic chair in the waiting room while on the other side of the doors, his best friends slowly died. They had plans. Instead, they would be lucky if both of them walked out of the hospital alive.


Okay, so I basically got this idea from the author Hilson, who had a anathology of shorts. I had the idea to do pretty much what they did, and have a series of shorts, but only they would relate to each other, semi, and that they would all be based off of songs. This is the second one that I wrote, but the first one I finished. So, yeah. The song is "What Sarah Said" by Death Cab For Cutie

**Title:** What Sarah Said

**By: **Devers18

**Rating:** T ish. Mild Language and Male/Male pairing

**Warnings:** Establish Hilson relationship. Spoilers for Season 4, Episode 16. Possible Character Death?

**Word Count:** 1, 673

**Author's Notes: **Depending on how this one goes, then I'll make another one. Sorry if House seems OOC

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**And It Came To Me Then**

**That Every Plan Is A Tiny**

**Prayer To Father Time**

**As I Stared At My Shoes In**

**The ICU That Reeked Of Piss**

**And 409**

What the hell was he doing sitting here on an uncomfortable plastic chair? He should be allowed in _there _with his best friend. Instead, he was being forced to stay in the waiting room with the other families. Only, he wasn't family. Close enough, but no. His parents would arrive within the next hour after the notification of their son's condition, if they showed up at all. Still, what the hell was he doing here in the waiting room? He was a doctor at this hospital, and under any other circumstances he would be allowed in the emergency room. But, in retrospect, it had never been his best friend on the other side of the doors. He was still outraged though. That was obvious. He shouldn't have to wait on the other side of the door as his best, and possibly _only, _friend slowly died. Not after everything the two of them had gone through together…

They had plans. They were going to go to some small hotel as far from the hospital that they could go on a single tank of gas. They were going to escape for a three day weekend. Escape from all the bullshit. Escape from the patients, cases, and people in general. They were going escape and just spend their time in the others' company. Now, they would be lucky if both of them left the hospital alive. After all the planning and eagerness to leave, only one of them would be able to go and drive away from the hospital for a much needed vacation. He was trying to be hopeful that luck would be on his side after so many years of being unlucky. Unfortunately he knew that there was little hope that James Wilson would be walking out of the hospital. His own words rung in his ears: _Hope is for sissies._

**And I Rationed My Breaths **

**As I Said To Myself That**

**I'd Already Taken Too Much Today**

**As Each Descending Peak On The LCD**

**Took You A Little Further Away From Me**

**Away From Me**

It was still unclear as to what had happened. All House knew was that Wilson had called him from the end of the street in order to get help with the week's groceries. Half-way hobbled down the street, House saw Wilson talking with someone. Then he heard the gun shot. It was like slow motion from that point on: Blood rushed out of Wilson's back as the bullet made a straight-through shot in his chest. The bag Wilson was holding fell to the ground, it's contents spilling out. Wilson's shooter ran off. His own cane fell to the ground as he ran, the best he could, to his friend's aid. The minute that he got to Wilson, House knew. He _knew._ He knew that there was very little hope that Wilson would live through the major surgery that was required for him, if House even got Wilson to the hospital alive.

By some miracle, they made it there alive. House barking orders at the E. the whole time.

**Amongst The Vending Machines**

**And Year-Old Magazines, In A**

**Place Where We Only Say Good-Bye**

**It Stung Like A Violent Wind**

**That Our Memories Depend On A**

**Faulty Camera In Our Minds**

Thirty minutes and a lot of screaming and quizzical looks later, House found himself in the waiting room at the emergency department of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Now, here he was sitting on that damned plastic chair, staring at his shoes (which were covered in Wilson's blood) and trying not to think. Absentmindedly, House took out his pills and dry swallowed two of them; the running had put strain on his leg, and he was feeling it now. House tried not to think, but the effort was failing. Every time House started thinking, his mind went back to seeing Wilson's normally joyous and effervescent face paled and in shock. House tried to think of all the good times he had with Wilson, but all he could see was Wilson's brown eyes losing their color, and his hair turning a rust-like color due to the blood mixing in with it as he laid there on the concrete.

House couldn't stand it any longer. He couldn't sit there while his best friend died in the other room. Fortunately for him, Chase came through the doors just as House started to formulate a plan to get inside. Chase's scrubs were covered in blood (O positive, no doubt), and his face was somber. House didn't even have to talk to Chase to know what he had to say. Wilson wouldn't make it. House would be able to say good-bye, but that would be it. All the plans that they had together were over. House stood, everything dissolving into slow motion again. He didn't stop to hear what Chase had to say. It wouldn't be important come tomorrow. In House's prospective, the only words that would matter tomorrow were the words that he would speak last to Wilson. House took one last look around the waiting room before going to face his dying friend.

**But I Knew You Were A Truth**

**I Would Rather Lose Than To Have**

**Never Lain Beside At All.**

**And I Looked Around At All The Eyes On The Ground**

**As The TV Entertained Itself**

House found Wilson almost instantly. He felt sick suddenly. He didn't know why though. He had seen hundreds of cases like this one. Not once did he feel sick or wanted to cry upon seeing them. _"It's because you never loved any of those people. But, you love Wilson,"_ the voice inside his head reminded him. Slowly walking up to Wilson's bedside, House shot a glare at the nurse fluttering about. The nurse knew what the glare meant and rushed away, leaving House and Wilson alone. House took Wilson's hand in his. Slowly, Wilson turned his head to look at House.

"Greg I'm-" Wilson tried to choke out.

"Be quiet for once Jimmy," House said, softly. Wilson complied and slowly blinked up at the older doctor. House tightened his grip on Wilson's hand as he felt himself tear up. "I'm sorry," House managed to choke out. "For everything. I'm sorry for stealing the Oxycodone, and for taking the five thousand dollars for my bike, and I'm sorry for stealing your food all the time," House babbled before he started to cry.

"House-" Wilson started, but had to swallow hard around the lump that was forming in his throat.

"Don't Jimmy," House said. He pulled a stool over so that he could sit next to Wilson. In doing so House noticed that his best friend's chest had been pack with surgical gauze to help stop the bleeding. He also noticed that Wilson had been wearing the Hitchcock shirt that House had bought for him for his birthday. "I'm terribly sorry for calling Amber and not you. I'm sorry that I never let you cuddle with me after sex," House whispered to his friend.

Wilson's eyes turned towards House. In the twelve years that James had known House, had had never seen him like this. Wilson didn't know what to do, and obviously House wouldn't let him _say _anything, so Wilson tightened his grip on House's hand and kept quiet. Wilson so desperately wanted to kiss House and comfort him, reassuring House (and himself for that matter) that everything was going to be alright.

House opened his mouth to talk again, but Chase walked in just at that moment. "I know, I know! I have to go back," House snapped at Chase. Turning back to Wilson, House brushed the hair away from his forehead. "Wilson, I'm glad I met you," House said while he stood. Bending down, House kissed Wilson on the forehead before following Chase back to the waiting room. "If there is any change in his condition, _any,_ you come and get me!" House commanded.

"Alright House, but I have to ask you to stay here. We're going to prep Wilson for surgery. There's a huge chance he won't make it," Chase stated.

"You think I don't know that!?" House shouted at him. "The M.D. after my name _does not _stand for Moral Deficient!"

"I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone now," Chase said, turning and walking briskly back into the emergency room.

**Cause There's No Comfort In The Waiting Room**

**Just Nervous Pacers, Bracing For Bad News**

**And Then The Nurse Comes Around**

**And Ever One Lifts Their Head**

Sighing, House refused to go sit on that damned chair again. He took two more Vicodin and started to pace the area in front of the doors. He wasn't just going to sit there like every other idiot in the place. The whole thing was completely ridiculous. House couldn't wait any longer. He stopped and watched through the small window as they prepped Wilson for surgery. Finally, just as the nurses and Chase were about to leave, House burst through the door and went over to Wilson's bed.

Wilson stared up at House with saucer-plate eyes. Chase seemed furious that House would just barge into the emergency room like that. "House, what the hell are you doing?" Chase asked.

**But I'm Thinking Of What**

**Sarah Said That**

"**Love Is Watching Someone**

**Die."**

"If he's going to die in there, at least I should say good-bye!" House snapped at Chase. At that point, House turned to Wilson. He brushed the hair away from his forehead and looked down into Wilson's eyes. House bent down and kissed Wilson on the lips. "There's one last thing I have to tell you, James. I'm sorry for never saying that I love you"

**So Who's Going To Watch You Die?**


End file.
